


A Bunch Of Red Ribbons Tied Up With String

by GoyaMangata



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Lizzington - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 11:01:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11645232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoyaMangata/pseuds/GoyaMangata
Summary: A collection of one shots, all Lizzington based.





	1. Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, though owning James Spader would be the dream, and all these one shots are Lizzington themed. If that's not your cup of tea, please feel free to go somewhere else and grab a coffee on me.

“Lizzie!” Red exclaimed, standing as Dembe led her into his latest luxury hotel suite. “You must try one of these croissants, the pastry is simply-”

She cut him off, in no mood for another of his rambling pleasantries.

“What do you want, Reddington?”

He raised his brow and studied her for a moment.

“Got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, did we?”

She threw him a scathing look, he responded with a benign smile, which only served to irritate her further.

“It’s my day off, Red. It may surprise you to learn that some people have them. Some people like them, and some people make plans to enjoy them.”

He tilted his head, a flicker of interest in his eyes.

“Plans?” he queried, “and what thrilling activities am I taking you away from?”

She didn’t respond, but her cheeks took on a faint pink hue. More intrigued than ever, he stepped around the ornate table and approached her, stopping, as he always did, just a little too far into her personal space. 

“I do hope I haven’t taken you away from anything…” he paused and she couldn’t miss the deliberate emphasis on the next word, “…important.”

For a moment, she considered playing along. He obviously thought she’d made plans with someone, a date perhaps, but he’d know she was lying the moment she opened her mouth. She sighed, resigned. 

“Sleep.” she said simply. He quirked an eyebrow, prompting further explanation. She sighed again.

“I was going to spend the day in bed. Sleeping. Watching awful TV. Not getting dressed all day.”

She coloured again as his eyes swept down her frame, unclothing her with his intense green gaze.

“Well as _diverting_ an image as that is, Lizzie, I feel your time may be served better here today. We have a case.”

And with that, the side of Red she found the most unnerving was gone, and he was back to business.


	2. Retribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie makes an unwise move and has to face the consequences.

Liz sighed as she pulled up to Reddington’s latest safe house. She was tired, she was cold and she was pissed off. She parked the car and switched off the ignition, thankful that the long drive was over but too fuelled by her ire to be truly grateful. Her day at the Post Office had been frustrating, trying to hunt down leads between writing reports and ignoring Ressler’s constant probes into her mood. She hadn’t heard from Red for three weeks, and now he calls at midnight, just as she was about to settle her aching body to sleep, and demands her presence in jovial tones, coaxing and wheedling at her until she’d agreed based on the fact that he was going to give them another Blacklister. They needed one. The Task Force ground to half speed when he wasn’t there to hand out names like candy. She’d been digging into one of her old cases from her profiler days over the last few weeks, but she’d missed Red. Damn it. She’d missed him. 

She punched the steering wheel and felt a small satisfaction at the jolt of pain that shot through her curled fist. It was pouring with rain, and the insistent downpour seemed to match her mood. She didn’t want to see him tonight, not when she was so pissed off at him. She hated how in control he always was, and yet he seemed to set her emotions spiralling at the slightest provocation. He’d just left. No phone calls to check in, no Blacklisters and no Red. She was sick and tired of being his puppet, and fully intended on telling him so when she’d mustered up the strength of will to get out of the car and cross to the house. 

She sighed again and opened the car door. The rain was heavier now and she did not relish the thought of driving home in this weather. She slid her legs out of the side door and got to her feet, turning and grabbing her purse from the passenger seat and mentally cursing Red for the millionth time as the rain soaked through the back of her jeans. She jogged over to the house and hammered on the door, already wet through and shivering. No answer. She cursed herself this time for not just telling him he’d see her tomorrow, and banged her fist against the door again. 

Dembe answered and smiled at her, “Good evening, Elizabeth.” he said, as he held the door open and ushered her inside. “He’s just down there, door on the right.” 

“Thanks, Dembe.” she replied over her shoulder as she headed into the house. She was going to make this quick. She wasn’t in the mood for any of Red’s rambling stories tonight. She just wanted to curl up in bed and disappear into a dreamless sleep for eight hours, but considering the two hour drive she’d just undertaken, she wouldn’t be back home until four or five in the morning, and her alarm was set to go off at seven. She paused briefly at the door to the sitting room, taking in Red’s profile as he stood warming himself by a roaring fire, nursing a glass of scotch in his hand. She sighed again, and he turned to the door.

“Lizzie!” he exclaimed jovially, striding towards her and looking down at her with a fond expression. She steeled herself against it and stepped inside, skirting around him and turning to face him in the middle of the room. 

“How was the driv-” he began to ask, but she cut him off.

“What’s the case, Reddington?” she said brusquely. He blinked at her tone and cocked his head.  
“Is something the matter, Lizzie?” 

“Red, it’s two in the morning, I haven’t heard a word for you in weeks and now you want to meet two _hours_ out of the city to give me another Blacklister. Why in God’s name couldn’t this have waited until morning?”

“Oh, come now, where’s your sense of adventure?” he asked cheerfully, taking a sip of his scotch and smiling down at her.

“I swear to God, Red-“ she began, but he frowned as he took in her dripping form properly and tutted. 

“You’re drenched, Lizzie!” he exclaimed, and before she knew what was happening, he was steering her to the fire. “Here, warm yourself up and I’ll grab you a towel.” 

“I don’t want a towel, Red. I want you to give me a name, which I have no idea why you couldn’t do over the phone, and then I’m going home.” she growled. He smirked at her. 

“Bit grumpy this evening, aren’t we?” he asked.

“Red. It’s two in the _morning._ Give me the goddamn name.”

He appraised her for a moment, his stare unwavering and intense, then clucked at her tone, turned and lowered himself into a cosy looking armchair and waved a hand around the room.

“Delightful little farmhouse, isn’t it?” he said, ignoring her completely.

“Red, I’m warning you, I am not in the mood.” she bit out, her frustration building into anger.

“Yes, _that,_ I can see,” he murmured, almost to himself. He sighed. 

“Roger Graves.” he said, suddenly all business. “He’s a nasty little piece of work, a hacker, quite proficient but _unbearably_ smug and self-important. He’s amassed quite the empire over the last ten years, but word on the street is that he’s reaching too high now. Needs to be taken down.”

“And you thought your pets at the FBI were just the thing for the job, did you? Tell me again why you couldn’t have given me that name over the phone, or in the morning?”

“I wanted to see you.” he said simply, shrugging his broad shoulders and taking another sip of his scotch. She watched him as he swirled the amber liquid around his tongue and swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing and a look of pure bliss settling over his features.

“You wanted- Red, you disappear for _three weeks,_ then call me over here at this time- You are unbelievable!”

He smirked again,

“Did you miss me, Lizzie?” he asked softly, confidently.

“No.” she lied instantly. 

“Come now, I missed you. It’s been positively dull these past few weeks.”

“Then where the hell have you been?” she exploded, her eyes throwing sparks and her form held rigid.

“Ah, so you _did_ miss me.” he purred contentedly, his eyes laughing, completely ignoring her volatile mood. 

She turned on her heel and strode to the door, muttering to herself, but in a flash, he was behind her, gripping her upper arm to stop her from leaving.

“Lizzie,” he said solicitously, “come and warm yourself up by the fire, you really are dripping. And all over this _beautiful_ rug, too. Come on, forgive me?”

She turned and glared at him. 

“I am going home.” she said through clenched teeth. He had the audacity to laugh, and shook his head at her slowly.

“No, Lizzie, you’re going to sit down, warm yourself up, have a drink of this _divine_ scotch and we’re going to catch up. What have you been up to?”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do Red. You don’t get to swing in and out of my life when it suits you. You don’t get to use me as your goddamn puppet with the FBI, and you most definitely do not want to piss me off any more than you already have.” she spat, sparks flying from her clear blue eyes, her mouth twisted in fury. 

He sighed again, looking disappointed in her. 

“Lizzie, I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch, I had important matters to attend to, but do stop behaving like a petulant child-"

The slap rang across the room like a gunshot, ricocheting from the walls, but he reacted with the instincts of a predator and had her wrist clamped tightly in his hand before she could pull back. 

“Now that,” he murmured, “was unwise.”

“Let me go, Red.” she ground out, tugging at her arm, but he held her in a vice like grip and studied her intently. He shook his head slowly, his eyes fixed on hers. Her breathing was rapid and adrenaline was coursing through her, her chest was rising and falling in quick bursts and two patches of colour rode high on her cheeks. 

“As fetching as you look so riled, Lizzie,” he drawled, “you really, _really_ shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged, still tugging in vein at her arm. “And why’s that, Red? Are you going to hit me back?”

He took a step closer to her, bringing their bodies together, her arm still trapped between them. She felt a frisson of apprehension wash through the anger at the burning intensity of his gaze. She could feel the heat of him seeping through her clothes, smell the intoxicating scent of him as he crowded her, asserting his physical dominance. She felt a little of her bravado slipping and she licked her lips nervously. His eyes darted to her mouth and she saw a heat burn in his eyes. She pulled against him, trying to free herself so she could take a step back, get back on even footing with him but his grip was unrelenting. 

“Let me go, Red. You’re hurting me.”

He shook his head again, 

“No, I’m not.” he said confidently, gaze still fixed on her mouth. She licked her lips again, and he growled under his breath and reached his other hand up to cup her face, swiping the pad of his thumb slowly against her bottom lip. She gasped at the intimate contact and stared back at him, desire now mixing with her anger as his heavy-lidded eyes watched her with such open lust. 

“Wh- what are you doing, Red?” she stammered, losing her bravado in the face of his predatory gaze.

“Thinking about retribution.” he replied softly. “A kiss for a slap, perhaps? Tit for tat, Lizzie.”

She gulped. He wouldn’t kiss her. He wouldn’t, would he?

She hated how much some secret part of her wanted him to, wanted to feel those well sculpted lips against hers, wanted to feel his tongue slide into her mouth, wanted to be surrounded by the scent and the taste of him. She tugged halfheartedly at her arm again but her eyes had fallen to his mouth and her breath hitched as he lowered his face towards hers. 

“Red-” she gasped, a note of panic entering her voice as she began to lose herself to the inexorable pull of him. He was entirely in control, she couldn’t move under the intensity of his gaze, didn’t _want_ to move. She wanted him. 

“Easy, sweetheart, easy.” he breathed against her cheek, and in that moment, she knew she wanted him to kiss her, wanted to know what it would feel like to have him worship her lips with his own. She was completely under his spell. 

He bent his head and gently moved his lips over the corner of her mouth, then swept his tongue along her bottom lip, mirroring his earlier action with his thumb. She felt desire pool between her legs and tried to take a shaky step back but he was holding her firmly to him, not letting her escape.

“Open up for me, Lizzie.” he commanded softly, his breath mingling with her own as she fought her internal battle. She didn’t know what to do, she felt like a deer caught in the headlights. She caught her lip between her teeth and he growled again, and before she knew what was happening, his mouth had claimed hers in a rush of searing heat. He nibbled on her lip and she gasped, he took full advantage and swept his tongue inside her mouth, pulling her closer to him, enveloping her with his body. His free hand moved to the back of her neck and he applied gentle pressure, tilting her more firmly against him as she began to respond, her tongue rubbing shyly against his. He deepened the kiss, devouring her like he was a drowning man, nibbling and thrusting his tongue deeper. She moaned softly against his mouth, all thoughts of pulling away now banished. He slanted his lips against hers and she curled her fist into his shirtfront, desperate for more contact.

He tasted like scotch and cigars and spices, it was intoxicating.


End file.
